


Snapping Into Place

by Wolfling



Series: The Sword of Damocles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post season 3a, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Connection," Derek replied immediately. "Family, friends, trust, love, it all boils down to connection. A strong pack, a pack that's working, that's meant to be, it just... the connections are there. You can just feel it." He tried to think of a way of describing something he'd never tried to put into words before. "It's like-"</p><p>"Like you're all pieces of the same jigsaw puzzle and someone's just snapped you all together." It wasn't, quite, said like a question.</p><p>"Yes," Derek said, nodding his head even though he doubted Stiles could see it in the darkened room. "Exactly like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapping Into Place

Derek knew he'd been accepted into Scott's pack when he felt Scott's approach even before he'd got within sensing range. So he was waiting at the door again when Scott knocked and opened it right away.

"No Stiles this time?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Nope." Scott paused and Derek could smell the anxiety. "I could call him if you'd rather we didn't do this alone?"

"No, that's okay," Derek said quickly. He didn't want it going wrong already. "I'm just. Surprised. He seems very dedicated about knowing everything's that's going on."

Scott relaxed at that, even grinned a little. "That's an understatement. I had to promise that I'd give him a blow by blow account of what happens here just to get him to agree to not coming with."

"I'm surprised he didn't ask you to take notes," Derek said, thinking of the wall covered in all sorts of research in Stiles' room.

"He's seen the kind of notes I take," Scott said wryly. "I usually end up having to borrow his in class." He paused and then asked diffidently, "Can I come in?"

Right. They were still standing at his door. Nothing like making your new Alpha feel welcome. Derek fought the urge to grimace as he nodded and stepped back to allow Scott to enter.

Scott didn't say anything, just slipped past Derek and crossed the loft to sit on the couch, in the same spot as yesterday when he'd first offered Derek a place in his pack. After a moment's hesitation, Derek shut the door and took the same seat he'd had the day before as well. 

It was still another minute or two before Scott spoke. "Stiles told me that he came over last night and pestered you until you agreed to join the pack."

"That's a pretty accurate description," Derek admitted. He didn't add just how much Stiles caring enough to do so had meant or how it had made giving in so much easier.

"I'd apologize for him, but," Scott said, watching Derek closely, "I get the feeling that you don't actually mind."

"I don't." Looking at Scott now, feeling his concern through the beginnings of a pack bond was enough to reassure Derek that his fears had been less based in reality and more based on past trauma. Stiles had been right about that. "I... needed to hear some things spelled out. Stiles did that."

"I've been there. Stiles is really good at stating the obvious," Scott said with a wry twist to his mouth, like he'd been on the receiving end of that kind of Stiles pestering more than once. "Especially when you're being too blind to actually see it."

Derek tilted his head to the side as he observed Scott with all his senses. "That sounds like recent personal experience."

"I get it on a fairly regular basis from him, but yeah," Scott admitted. "There was a certain amount of _pestering_ that happened at school today."

"About?" 

Scott gave him a faint smile. "I think you know." Then his expression turned serious. "I know when our positions were reversed, I said yes to being in your pack without really meaning it. That I said yes so I could use you and then took it back." He took a deep breath. "I never apologized for doing that and I should've. I... had my reasons but it was still a dick move."

It had been and it had _hurt_ , dealt a blow to Derek's already shaky confidence as an Alpha and, he could admit to himself now, adding to his already massive trust issues. But even when it happened he'd realized that Scott hadn't done it out of malice, at least not malice against _him_. Malice against Gerard Argent was something else entirely. So, no, he hadn't liked it at all, but in the end he'd understood why Scott had done it and he said as much now.

"I got it," he said. "I hated it, but I got it. And it might have been a dick move but your plan worked, which was more than I could say for any of mine up to that point." Which, really, was just more proof that even when he'd had the power, Derek had never been meant to be an Alpha, while Scott, even before he came into his power, so obviously _was_.

"I still owe you an apology. So I'm sorry." Scott held Derek's eyes as he spoke and if sincerity had a scent he would have reeked of it.

Derek hadn't thought hearing the words would have made a difference after everything but it did. Maybe because it was the first time someone had bothered to apologize to him in a very long time. 

Scott seemed to be waiting for a response so Derek nodded and said, "Okay." He didn't feel able to give any more than that.

It appeared to be enough though since Scott relaxed at that. "That being said, I would _never_ lie about offering you a place in my pack. And I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure."

It helped to actually hear it directly from Scott, even more than from Stiles the night before, but it was embarrassing enough to need the reassurance that Derek couldn't help but grimace. "Stiles talked."

"It's what Stiles does," Scott said with a faint smile and a half shrug. "That wasn't the only thing he talked about though. He said you browbeat him into letting you watch him when he slept."

And wow, when put like that, it made Derek sound like the horrible creeper Stiles was always teasing him he was. "Less watching, more guarding," he said. "Despite what Stiles may think, I am not the werewolf version of Edward Cullen."

Scott snorted. "The next time he calls you that, just point out to him that he's casting himself as Bella in that scenario," he suggested. 

Derek could well imagine Stiles' reaction to that, enough that he actually had to try to swallow a laugh, not entirely successfully if Scott's grin was anything to go by.

"Seriously though,"Scott continued, "guarding?" Derek stiffened a little at the question, but Scott didn't sound accusing or judgemental, just curious, so he forced himself to relax and try to honestly answer the question.

"Guarding. He's hiding it as well as anyone could expect, but it's still there if you pay attention. The haunted look in his eyes sometimes and his scent. He smells desperate, afraid. He smells like-"

"-like he's being hunted," Scott finished for him. 

Derek nodded. "Yeah." Of course Scott had sensed it too -- not only was he the Alpha but Stiles was his best friend. Plus if this was related to the surrogate sacrifices... "Are you feeling it too?" he asked because while he could scent some anxiety on Scott, it didn't seem to be anywhere the same category as what he'd scented on Stiles when he talked about Something coming for them.

Scott shrugged. "I feel _something_. It makes me want to keep my guard up and my pack close. But Stiles..." He sighed in frustration. "It seems to be getting to him more. Or maybe just differently, I don't know. I do know he hasn't been sleeping anywhere near as much as he should, and that he's got kinda obsessed with knowing everything -- and I mean everything -- that's going on. I'm not surprised that he was the first one who noticed you were back."

"Hyper-vigilance," Derek said. He was intimately familiar with that feeling; sometimes he felt like he'd been in that state to one degree or another since the Fire. 

"Yeah," Scott said. "And Stiles' first instinct is always to research anyway so I guess it's logical he's dealing with it this way, but..."

"You're worried about him." It didn't take wolf senses to figure that out.

"I am." He sounded -- and smelled -- frustrated. "Stiles doesn't ask for help. Not for himself. Not when it's serious. For other people, yeah, he'll ask, demand, threaten, whatever it takes. Which makes it hard when you can see he needs help, but you don't know what he needs that you can do and he won't _ask_." Scott took a deliberate deep breath and Derek could almost see him willing the frustration away. "But he was better today. He said he'd gotten a good night's sleep, the first in a long time, and that it was because of you." He focused all his attention on Derek. "Thank you."

Derek gave a half shrug, feeling an odd combination of pleased and embarrassed. "I didn't really do all that much."

"You did enough," Scott countered. "It helped. More than I've been able to. So thank you."

"I just went with my instincts," Derek said with another half shrug. He'd recognized something in Stiles that had felt similar to what he'd struggled with himself and reacted accordingly. "After the Fire, for a while the only time I could really sleep was when I knew Laura was awake and on watch. Having her on guard... it helped. I thought it might help Stiles too if I did what she did for me."

He didn't miss the way Scott went still at the mention of Laura. Derek never voluntarily talked about his sister -- or really any of his family -- because it hurt too much. But this time it didn't, at least not in the same way. Maybe because he was taking what Laura had done for him, what she had taught him, and paying it forward. Maybe because for once he'd gotten something right and he wanted her to get the credit she deserved for that.

She deserved credit for so much more than she'd ever gotten.

"Those are good instincts," Scott finally said quietly. Accepting the bit of family knowledge that Derek had offered but not pushing for more. He took a deep breath and seemed to shake himself, and Derek could suddenly more easily sense Scott's power as an Alpha, like he'd deliberately pulled it over himself like a cloak. Derek sat up a little straighter in reaction.

"And that's just one of the reasons I want you in my pack," Scott said formally, every inch the Alpha now. "There's just so much you know that I don't, things that you see differently because you've always been a wolf, important things that I miss because I don't know to look for them. And I can't explain it in words but you just... fit." He met Derek's gaze steadily, his own tinged red. "I know you accepted by proxy last night, but this just feels like something we should do formally. Will you join my Pack, Derek?"

Derek looked into Alpha red eyes and felt his own spark blue in response. "Yes."

He felt the strengthening of pack ties immediately, stronger and surer than anything he'd felt since his family. And if the fact that he'd never been able to forge such bonds when he'd been in charge was just one more piece of evidence of how terrible he'd been at being an Alpha, he couldn't find it in himself to care just then. 

He had a pack again.

*****

Derek headed over to Stiles' place around mid-evening. He hadn't actually told Stiles he was going to come over again, but figured it had been at least heavily implied that he was going to continue guarding Stiles' sleep. 

And if it hadn't, well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd shown up at Stiles' place unannounced. 

When he got there, he briefly considered using the door, but a glance up showed that Stiles had left his bedroom window open and that was as good as an invitation as far as Derek was concerned.

Stiles was in his room, at his computer, muttering to himself as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Derek watched him for several heartbeats, and considered just settling down silently and waiting until Stiles noticed he was there. But, like he'd told Stiles that morning, watching when Stiles didn't know he was there was crossing the line into creeper territory and he was trying to be better about that sort of thing. Moreover, watching Stiles when he didn't know he was there was crossing a line of trust too, especially with what he knew Stiles was dealing with, and that he wasn't willing to do.

So Derek didn't move any further than the windowsill and raised his hand to rap on the glass, like he would knock on the door if he had entered via a more conventional route.

It didn't stop Stiles from startling so badly that he practically flailed himself right off the chair, or from coming up into a crouch holding the same bat he'd had with him when he came to the loft two days ago.

It took several seconds longer than Derek would've thought it would for Stiles to recognize him, long enough for him to hear how fast Stiles heart was beating and to smell the potent mixture of panic, fear and determination coming off him. Long enough for him to start feeling guilty for not using the door after all.

"Oh my god, Derek are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Stiles exclaimed when it penetrated who it was standing there. 

"The window was open," Derek replied inanely.

"Yeah, because it's a nice night and I wanted some air! Not because I wanted creeper werewolves climbing through it and scaring me out of my wits!" Stiles half raised the bat he hadn't let go of. "I have half a mind to take a swing at you regardless."

Derek wouldn't stop him if he did. With what he knew was going on -- what he'd come over to help with even -- he should've known sneaking up on Stiles, even if it was something he used to do all the time, was actually bordering on cruel. He fought the urge to fidget where he stood like a child who knew he was in the wrong and muttered, "I'll use the door next time."

Stiles stared at him for a long moment and Derek could hear his heartbeat slowing down again. "No," he said with a sigh, lowering the bat. "You can keep using the window since you obviously like it so much. Compromise -- just text me before you come in so I know to expect you. Deal?"

"Deal," Derek said.

Stiles turned his back to Derek and put the bat away beside the chair he'd been sitting in. "So what brings you by at this hour anyway?" he asked. "I mean I know you've appointed yourself night watchman over my sleeping bod, but it's way too early for me to be hitting the hay." He glanced over his shoulder at Derek. "Anything else up?"

"No, not really," Derek admitted. "I just... that is..." he verbally fumbled for a moment before managing, "You mentioned watching a movie last night and I thought..."

Stiles visibly brightened. "Yeah we can do that," he enthused. He headed for the door, obviously expecting Derek to follow him. Which Derek found himself doing without really thinking about it. "I'll make some popcorn and then we can figure out what we want to watch."

Derek trailed after him down the stairs and into the kitchen, listening as Stiles rambled on about their choices as he pulled out some popcorn and tossed it in the microwave. He seemed relaxed, almost happy although that ever present scent of fear and worry was still there underneath it all. But Stiles seemed to be doing his best to ignore it at the moment so Derek tried to do the same. 

There was a lull in the conversation -- or the Stiles monologuing -- as they listened to the corn popping in the microwave. Stiles shifted his stance and glanced over at Derek. "So Scott said he was going to pay you a visit after school," he said casually.

Derek nodded. "He did."

Stiles seemed to wait for a minute. "And?" he finally nudged.

"And what?" Derek carefully controlled his expression. He knew he would eventually tell Stiles about the meeting, but he was going to make him work for it. 

"What happened?" Stiles exclaimed.

"I thought you made Scott promise to give you a play by play," Derek replied as mildly as he could.

"Yeah, but he's not here and you are," Stiles pointed out. "Ergo, it falls to you to give me all the dirty details." He made a gimme motion with his hands. "So come on, let's have it."

" _I_ didn't promise to give you a play by play."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You didn't promise not to either. So come on, spill." He paused and when Derek didn't immediately respond, frowned and reached out one hand and poked him in the side. "Spill, I said."

Derek just raised an eyebrow at him, looking down in bemusement when Stiles poked him again. "What are you doing?"

"Providing motivation for you to share by being as annoying as possible," Stiles replied promptly, emphasizing his words with a few more pokes.

"You might want to rethink that strategy," Derek said mildly, resisting the urge to grab Stiles' hand to stop him. "Poking a werewolf is generally not a good idea."

"Generally," Stiles agreed cheerfully, and with another poke. "But I'm not poking any old werewolf. I'm poking _you_."

That shouldn't have meant anything to Derek, having a human who knew what he was be so unafraid of him that he set out to deliberately annoy him, but he found that it did. Though maybe it wasn't all that surprising when he thought about it. It had used to happen all the time with the humans in the Hale pack when he was young. 

And here it was, years later, happening again. With Stiles. Who was Pack. Pack the way it should be. The thought sparked an unfamiliar but welcome warmth in his chest and Derek found himself capitulating to Stiles' demands.

"Scott formally asked me again to join his pack and I formally agreed to."

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed, punching the air with a fist. "I was half afraid the two of you were going to keep dancing around the issue and I was going to have to hold a were-intervention."

"You sort of already did," Derek pointed out. No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to bring himself to accept if Stiles hadn't harangued him into saying it out loud the night before. And it was no coincidence that Scott had led off this afternoon with an apology for the very issues that had been holding him back in the first place.

"Nah, that was just me being pushy and sticking my nose into places it probably doesn't belong," Stiles said, waving it off. "An actual intervention would've involved much more frowning in disappointment and 'I feel' statements." 

The microwave went off with a ding before Derek could respond. "Popcorn!" Stiles declared happily, grabbing the bag from inside, ripping it open and pouring it into a bowl he'd gotten out earlier. He picked up the bowl and pointed towards the living room imperiously. "Now movie."

Derek rolled his eyes, but followed where Stiles led.

After a brief discussion on what movie to pick, which really was more like a Stiles monologue with an occasional shrug or eyebrow raise from Derek, they ended up on the couch together with the bowl of popcorn between them watching the opening credits of _The Avengers_.

"So," Stiles said around a mouthful of popcorn as they watched Loki talk about boots and ants, "feel free to tell me if I'm stepping over a line -- more than usual I mean -- but you've never really been a hang out and watch movies kind of dude before. At least not with me. Is this because we're Pack now or...?"

Derek didn't answer immediately, frowning as he thought the question through. It was true he'd never really sought out Stiles or any of the others for anything that wasn't related to keeping everybody alive. Hell, aside from his disastrous relationship with Jennifer, pretty much his every second of his time in Beacon Hills previously had been about trying to keep everybody alive, with depressingly mixed results. He knew what hyper-vigilance felt like, oh yes. 

But when he had left with Cora things started to change. He had been able to start to relax just a little, start to think of living beyond just surviving. And that new mindset meant the idea of sitting down to watch a movie with a fri- fellow pack member something that didn't feel dangerous or wrong. 

Derek wasn't sure he could put all the things that had changed into words, but Stiles was still watching him expectantly so he tried. "It's partially that," he said. 

"But?" Stiles prompted when Derek didn't continue right away.

"But it's also about... giving myself permission to." He looked at Stiles, frustrated. "Does that make any sense?"

Stiles' expression softened. "Yeah," he said, and there was something about his tone that made Derek think he did get it. "Makes perfect sense." 

For some reason, Stiles nudged the popcorn bowl a little closer to Derek and then turned his attention back to the movie, leaving Derek free to do the same. 

About the time Loki was throwing Tony Stark out a window, Derek's phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket while Stiles looked over curiously. Derek gave a small smile when he saw who it was. "Cora," he said as he answered it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stiles sit up attentively at that and pause the movie.

"You were supposed to call," Cora accused.

Derek grimaced. He had been, but once he got back to Beacon Hills and Stiles had shown up at his doorstep with a baseball bat, he'd got distracted. "Sorry," he apologized. "I've been busy."

"Have you been shot with a wolfsbane bullet? Bleeding from Alpha induced wounds? Otherwise injured or impaired in a way that would make it impossible for you to use your phone?" Derek couldn't completely suppress a wince at his sister's sharp tone.

"No, but-"

"Then you were supposed to call."

"Fine!" Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I was supposed to call. I didn't. I screwed up. And I apologized. Can we move on now?"

Beside him he heard Stiles choking back his snickering with a hand over his mouth. But not, apparently quietly enough because Cora's response was to say, "We can if you tell me who's trying not to laugh in the background."

"Stiles," Derek replied.

"She heard me?" Stiles asked, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

"Werewolf," Derek reminded Stiles just as Cora said in his ear, "I did and I can still hear him. Put me on speaker so the poor human can hear me too."

Derek hesitated because the chances of that leading to the two of them teaming up on him were really, really good, but at least it would mean he'd stop having two conversations at once. "Fine," he sighed, hitting the appropriate button on his phone. "You're on speaker."

"Is it just Stiles there?" Cora asked.

"Yeah, it's just me," Stiles replied before Derek could. "Hey Cora. So lovely to hear your dulcet tones. I see you've got Derek actually answering a cell phone. Congratulations on that."

"Bite me," Derek said without even thinking about it.

"Human," Stiles said, pointing at himself, then pointed at Derek. "Werewolf. I'll leave the biting to you more wolfy types."

The sound of Cora chuckling forestalled any comeback Derek would've made. "He's a work in progress," she said dryly, but Derek knew her well enough to hear the affection in her voice. "Which is sort of why I asked him to put me on speaker so I can talk to you. Derek's not so great with his words sometimes especially when he thinks he's keeping something from me for my own good. So I'm just going to ask you instead. Are you guys in imminent danger of death?"

"Not imminent danger, no," Stiles replied, glancing at Derek as he answered. 

"But there _is_ danger," Cora clarified.

"We're fine," Derek said firmly. "Nothing's happening."

"I want to hear it from Stiles."

"He's telling the truth," Stiles confirmed. "Actually, things are pretty good right now. Nobody's tried to kill me for, like, at least a month."

"Why do you sound like you're lying?" Derek could clearly picture his sister's frown from the tone of her voice.

Stiles sighed heavily, then asked, seemingly out of the blue, "Have you seen Star Wars?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-"

"There's a tremor in the Force," Stiles interrupted. "A big tremor. Huge. As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced huge. Except it hasn't happened yet. I'm not lying, things are actually pretty good right now, but there's Something coming. Something big. Don't know what or when, but It's coming. I can feel it."

"Are you a jedi knight now?" Cora asked in a softer voice, obviously picking up on the strain in Stiles' voice as easily as Derek had.

Stiles snorted at that. "God, I wish. How cool would that be? No, it's a Nemeton related thing. Stupid not dead enough tree."

"Okay," Cora said after a moment. "I'm going to need to talk to my brother in private now." She paused. "But it was good to hear your voice, Stiles."

"You too," Stiles replied with a smile, then he stood up. "I'll just go get us more snacks," he said, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl and heading for the kitchen.

Derek took the phone off speaker and brought it back up to his ear. "Now do you believe me?"

"It's not like you don't have a history of not sharing when you're in trouble," Cora pointed out, sounding unrepentant. "Or sharing at all, really."

"I told you I'd let you know if things were bad," Derek reminded her, thinking of the long conversation they'd had before he'd left to come back and the many promises she'd extracted from him. Not that he could blame her for that, considering that the last time a Hale headed back to Beacon Hills based on nothing but a bad feeling, it had been Laura and she'd ended up dead.

"You'd also told me you'd call me and we've seen how well you've been keeping that promise," Cora pointed out, then in a more serious voice asked, "Stiles' Force tremor thing, is that what drew you back there?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." He hesitated before continuing, not sure how Cora would feel about him officially joining another Pack, but it wasn't like that was something he could hide from her indefinitely. "But not the same way Stiles meant it. He feels something bad is coming, I felt... like my Pack was in danger."

There was nothing from Cora's end of the phone line for a long moment except the sound of her breathing. Finally Derek heard her sigh softly. "Are they? Your Pack?"

"Yes." Even though his sister's potential reaction made him nervous, Derek still felt that surge of _rightness_ , of _belonging_ that came with admitting that.

Cora sighed again. "Guess I saw that coming."

Derek didn't even know what to say to that. He desperately wanted Cora to be okay with this, but without scent or sight it was damned hard to tell what she was feeling. "Is... is that alright?" he finally managed to ask hesitantly.

"What if I said it wasn't?"

"I-" Derek began but found he didn't have any words for how bad that would be. To have to choose between family and Pack...

"Relax," Cora said, voice warm with affection again. "I swear I can hear you angsting and I didn't think that was possible. It's alright, Derek. Of course it is."

Derek let out his breath in a whoosh of relief. "That was mean."

"You know I've always been the mean one," Cora replied. She paused. "Is it... what you wanted?"

Derek took some time to really think about it before he answered. "Yes," he finally said. "Even with all the bad that's happened here, for some damned reason this still feels like home. And it's not... what we had growing up. It's not _family_ , but this Pack... it fits. It feels like I'm meant to be here." He frowned. "Does that make any sense?"

Cora chuckled. "It makes about as much sense as the rest of the clusterfuck that is your life," she said, not without affection. "I'll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing with Stiles with your lives not in imminent danger. Just... try and remember to call me."

"I will," Derek promised. Again.

"I mean it. If you don't, I'll be forced to start calling Stiles to find out what's going on with you. And no one will enjoy that."

Privately Derek thought Stiles might, but all he said was, "I'll call."

"Take care, big brother." She paused. "I'm glad you're not dead." And then she hung up.

Derek stared at his phone for a moment then put it away. That... had gone better than he had feared it would. 

"Everything okay?" Stiles asked from where he was leaning against the doorway to the living room, holding the refilled bowl of popcorn.

"Yeah," Derek said, looking up. He felt like he should add something, but wasn't sure what. "She likes you," he finally added.

Stiles smirked as he walked over to rejoin Derek on the couch. "Of course she does, I'm eminently likeable." He handed the bowl to Derek and plopped down beside him, hard enough he bounced a little on the couch cushions. "I like her too. I've seemed to have developed a soft spot for grumpy werewolves named Hale."

That shouldn't actually have made Derek feel something like a warm fuzzy, but it did. But then again, since there weren't many people left alive who would actually admit to liking him... and there he went depressing himself again.

Somehow Stiles had moved close enough to him that a slight lean to the side meant he was nudging Derek's shoulder. "Okay, seriously, is everything all right? I would've bet on getting at least a glare if not an outright glare and a 'shut up Stiles' for that comment."

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek dutifully provided.

"Nope," Stiles said, nudging his shoulder again. "Too late. Doesn't count if I have to prompt you. Come on, spill. What's bugging you?"

"Nothing's bugging me," Derek insisted. But he knew Stiles well enough to realize that answer wasn't going to be acceptable. And it wasn't anything bad, just... personal. 

"You could've fooled me." This time Derek did manage a glare, which was enough to have Stiles holding up his hands. "If I'm prying somewhere I shouldn't, feel free to tell me it's none of my business."

Derek opened his mouth to do just that, but what came out instead was, "It's just... different."

"Different?" Stiles repeated, somehow making his tone curious but not demanding.

"Pack and family." Stiles made an encouraging questioning sound and Derek somehow found the words to try and explain. "I'm a born wolf. I was born into a pack. Pack was Family and Family was Pack. Family was _always_ Pack. I thought the only way the two wouldn't be synonymous was if I didn't have any more family. But now..."

"You have a Pack but your sister's not part of it," Stiles murmured and Derek was grateful for how quickly he understood. "You have family and you have a pack but your family is not pack."

Derek nodded emphatically. "Yes."

Stiles let his breath out in a thoughtful sigh, slumping back into the couch cushions . "I can see where that would be weird." He turned his head to look more fully at Derek. "You know there's a place for Cora here too if she wants it, right?"

That was something that only the Alpha could really offer, but Derek bit his tongue before he pointed that out. He was pretty sure that in this situation Stiles did speak for Scott. "I don't think she does," he said instead because he was just as sure of that. Cora was happy where she was, away from this place. If she joined another Pack he doubted it would be one based in Beacon Hills. At least not now. 

Though maybe someday...

"Are you okay with that?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded again. "Yes." Even if it would take some getting used to to think of his family and his Pack as two different things. Equally important, but different. 

"And she's okay with it?" 

Derek smirked a little because of course Stiles figured out that's what had been bothering him and wasn't any more. "Yes."

"So... things really are all right?" Stiles asked tentatively.

"With my sister at least, yes," Derek replied, caught between amusement and exasperation that Stiles seemed to find this unbelievable.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized. "It's just... I'm kinda in a mindset right now that I assume everything is a bomb waiting to explode if I don't disarm it first." He shrugged self-effacingly. "Pretty narcissistic I know."

"It's not," Derek heard himself say before consciously deciding to. 

That got a quick, surprised but pleased grin from Stiles. He nudged Derek's shoulder again and said, "We should finish watching the movie."

They did and watched some random cop show on tv after, with Stiles making snarky comments when they got the details of police work as he knew it wrong. It was... enjoyable. Maybe the most enjoyable evening Derek had had in Beacon Hills since before the Fire. He wasn't sure what to do with that realization, though his first instinct was to not even think about it too hard in case acknowledging it caused it to be snatched away.

When the show was over, Stiles turned off the tv and yawned widely. "Man, considering I got close to a full night's sleep last night I shouldn't be as tired today, but I think I'm actually more."

"One night of sleep won't make up for months of sleep deprivation," Derek pointed out from experience. 

"Too true, unfortunately," Stiles sighed. He glanced sideways at Derek and then looked away again. "You, uh, still staying again tonight?" he asked causally though Derek could smell his nervousness.

Derek nodded as if it was no big deal. "As long as you stop calling me Edward Cullen."

Stiles grinned widely, his relief as potent as scent as his nerves were a moment ago. "Sure. I understand. There's insults and then there's Twilight and that's crossing a line. Got it."

They headed back upstairs after Stiles did a quick walk through of the lower level, checking locks and turning off lights. Derek had hovered while he did so, not saying or doing anything, but judging by how the scent of nerves coming from Stiles seemed to calm whenever he glanced in Derek's direction, his presence was help enough.

Once upstairs Stiles went off to the bathroom to get ready for bed leaving Derek in his bedroom. Like the night before, Derek found himself drawn to the wall covered with Stiles' research. 

It was impressive just by the sheer volume of it, especially considering Derek was pretty sure that what got put up on the wall was only a fraction of the work Stiles had actually done.

It was also surprisingly diverse as well, though well organized, far better than Derek would've probably given Stiles credit for before seeing this. It was divided into three sections, each one clearly labelled at the top in Stiles' surprisingly neat handwriting: _Werewolves and Other Shapeshifters_ , _The Nemeton and Other Druidic Fuckery_ , and _Other Weird Shit That's Hopefully Mostly Not Real But We Don't Get That Lucky_.

That last heading had made Derek actually snort in amusement when he first read it because it was just so very Stiles. 

He hadn't had the time the night before to do more than just glance at it and get the general idea of what it was, so he took the opportunity now to look at it more closely.

The werewolf stuff was of course the most familiar to Derek, though the facts were commented on in a voice that was uniquely Stiles. The 'Druidic Fuckery' made Derek the most uncomfortable; he hated magic and his experiences with it over the past year had pretty much cemented that opinion, and from the information that Stiles had accumulated it could have been so very much worse. 

Trying to distract himself from the thought that it could _still_ get worse, Derek shifted his gaze to the third section, Other Weird Shit, and found himself choking back laughter. Because, while most of the information tacked up under the header were serious potential threats, the bottom third were just.... not.

"Oh I see how it is," Stiles voice came from behind him. "I leave the room and you start mocking my research."

Derek turned, a protest on his lips which died when he realized neither Stiles' scent or his expression held either anger or irritation. In fact, if anything he was amused.

So instead of giving an apology, Derek deliberately let his gaze move back and forth between Stiles and the part of the research that had surprised him into laughter. "I'm pretty sure we don't have to worry about Sauron attacking Beacon Hills."

"You don't know that," Stiles replied, raising an eyebrow.

"He's fictional, Stiles."

Stiles smirked at that as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. Derek could practically smell the delight coming off him. "So, until a year ago, were werewolves," he said. "Or so I believed. I'm not taking anything for granted anymore."

"Just how long had you gone without sleep when you decided researching Tolkien was something you needed to do?" Derek asked, finding himself caught between equal parts amusement, worry and exasperation. Not unfamiliar emotions for him around Stiles.

"I plead the fifth," Stiles said, still smirking, pushing himself away from the doorway and crossing the room to stand beside Derek. "I did categorize it as least likely to happen if it makes any difference."

"It makes me slightly less worried that you're going to propose a field trip to a volcano," Derek replied in as deadpan a tone as he could manage.

Stiles laughed. "Y'know what my Dad said when he saw that up there? He said, 'Oh God, please tell me you don't have a ring that lets you turn invisible.' I think he was more worried about what I could get up to if I did than the implication of an undying Dark Lord."

"What did you tell him?" Derek asked curiously.

"I told him I was holding out for an invisibility cloak like in Harry Potter." He paused. "Or a light saber. A light saber would be cool."

"You had Darth Vader up here at one point didn't you." Derek didn't even make it a question.

"No!" Stiles denied. "What kind of shitty research do you think I'm doing?" He paused, then muttered, "It was Palpatine."

"Of course it was." Derek didn't even bother to roll his eyes because of course Stiles had put a Star Wars character on his research wall.

Stiles let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "Look, I know that occasionally I might get a tiny bit over zealous in trying to figure out what's coming our way next. Possibly even occasionally all the way past over zealous and into full out insanity. I just..." He shrugged. "When I feel myself start to get fixated on something like that, sometimes it's easier to just go through the motions and put it up on the wall until it starts feeling ridiculous than it is to fight the urge. So I do."

As coping mechanisms went, that sounded far healthier than anything Derek had ever managed. He tried to think what he could say that would make Stiles less self conscious about it. "You've got a lot of good solid information here," he said, choosing his words carefully. 

"Thanks," Stiles said with a quick attempt at a smile, there and gone. He still smelled unsettled though.

"And we'll have a head start if we have to face down a balrog," Derek added deadpan and was rewarded with a real grin.

"Man, I never would've pegged you for a Tolkien nerd," he said, clapping a hand to Derek's shoulder. "You're a werewolf of hidden depths."

Derek opened his mouth to say something snarky back, but then Stiles yawned in his face. "Bed," he said instead.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said, pulling away and became a whirl of aimless motion, first moving one way and then the other, trailing the scent of nerves and apprehension in his wake before finally settling in front of his computer and setting his fingers to the keyboard. "I just gotta do... uh... this thing and then I'll totally-"

"Stiles."

That was all it took. Stiles stopped moving, stopped talking, and slumped in his seat. "Right. Sorry. Bad habit I've picked up -- someone says bed and I instinctively find half a dozen things I need to do instead." He looked up at Derek and said with painful honesty, "That's probably going to take a while to break."

Derek gave a half shrug, deliberately casual. "I've got time."

That earned him another smile, small but real. "Thanks." Stiles stood back up and headed slowly across the room. "I'm just gonna... y'know..." he gestured at his bed. "work on breaking the habit."

Like the night before, Stiles didn't turn the light out before climbing into bed and Derek walked over to it. "Do you want this left on?" he asked, like he had the night before. Just because Stiles had been okay with it off then didn't necessarily mean he would be okay with it tonight.

"Nah," Stiles said easily enough, then grinned. "Why would I need to leave the light on when I've got a living nightlight complete with claws and fangs?"

"I'm not a night light," Derek protested, but all the same shifted his eyes when he turned the light off so Stiles could see them.

"Sure, whatever you say, buddy," Stiles said in a 'clearly I'm humoring you' tone of voice.

Derek crossed the room again and sat in the chair by Stiles' desk, the same as he had the night before. Stiles punched his pillow a few times and rolled onto his side so he was facing him. Silence reigned for a few minutes, although Derek could see Stiles' eyes were still open watching him watch Stiles. 

"I really should find this a lot creepier than I do," Stiles said, voice quieter than it had been like part of him was reluctant to break the silence.

"Go to sleep, Stiles," Derek replied, not moving at all. 

"Yeah, I'm... working on it." There was a pause where Stiles fidgeted, legs moving restlessly beneath the blankets, his long fingers plucking aimlessly at his pillow. "You think... is it okay if we talk for a bit? I... uh... kinda need to trick my brain into stopping obsessing long enough to let me relax enough to fall asleep."

Talking for the sake of distraction, or even just talking in general had never been one of Derek's strong suits, but it wasn't like he could say no. "Sure," he said softly, then tried to cast around for a suitable topic. 

Luckily finding something to talk about didn't seem to be something that Stiles ever had a problem with. "Y'know, it's a really good thing you've joined the Pack, beyond the obvious reasons why it's a good thing, I mean. You bring the total of actual wolves in the Pack to equal that of non-wolves. That just feels like something a pack should have, right? More wolves than non-wolves?"

"That's generally how it goes," Derek admitted. "And the number of wolves in a pack does the most to add to the Alpha's power, as well as the pack in general. But power shouldn't be the most important thing when determining who should join." He had forgotten that himself when he had become an Alpha and it had taken far too much loss and pain for him to relearn that lesson.

"What should be?" Stiles asked curiously.

"Connection," Derek replied immediately. "Family, friends, trust, love, it all boils down to connection. A strong pack, a pack that's working, that's meant to be, it just... the connections are there. You can just feel it." He tried to think of a way of describing something he'd never tried to put into words before. "It's like-"

"Like you're all pieces of the same jigsaw puzzle and someone's just snapped you all together." It wasn't, quite, said like a question.

"Yes," Derek said, nodding his head even though he doubted Stiles could see it in the darkened room. "Exactly like that."

Stiles smiled, slow and full of satisfaction. "So we've got that right at least. Not that I really doubted it anyway. I mean, the Pack's good, the Pack's _solid_ , even if it's definitely rocking the non-traditional. You wouldn't think that two wolves -- three now -- a hunter, a banshee and a lowly human should _fit_ , but if even the lowly human can feel it..."

"You're not," Derek blurted.

"Pretty sure I am," Stiles argued. "Granted, I'm probably not feeling it the same way you are but-"

"You're not a lowly human," Derek clarified. Did Stiles really not know what he was to the Pack?

There was a pause before Stiles replied this time. "Uh, pretty sure I am. Still a lowly human, I mean. Though okay, maybe 'lowly' is too judgemental, it's not like I'm eager to not be human or anything."

There was just the slightest hint of uncertainty in Stiles' voice that Derek quickly said," You're human," to reassure him. "But Stiles, you're the Pack's Emissary."

The pause before Stiles spoke this time was longer. "I'm _what_?"

"You're the Pack's -- Scott's -- Emissary," Derek repeated.

Stiles propped himself up on one elbow and frowned in Derek's direction. "Dude, I don't know where you got that idea, but just because I've been researching Druidic Fuckey doesn't mean I've been studying Druidism." He paused. "Well, I have, but not, y'know, to actually become one. You know what I mean."

"An Emissary doesn't have to be a druid," Derek said, ignoring the fact for the moment that Stiles had shown some potential in that area. 

"So... what? It's just an incredible coincidence that every Emissary we've encountered has been one?"

"It's common, but it's not a prerequisite." He cocked his head as he studied Stiles. "Stiles, what do you think Emissaries do?"

"They maintain balance," Stiles replied and Derek could see him roll his eyes in the darkness. "Or so Ms. Morrell kept insisting."

Of course she did. "That's... more a result than a job description," Derek said. 

"So what is the actual job description then?" Stiles sounded equal parts curious and exasperated.

Derek hated trying to describe things he had grown up just knowing. He always seemed to get it wrong somehow. But he was the one who had brought it up and it wasn't like there was anyone else around who could answer -- or at least who had deigned to answer this question before so he did his best to put it into words. "An Emissary is like a go between," he began though that wasn't quite right. It wasn't big enough. He tried again. "An Emissary stands between the Pack and the rest of the world." That was better. "They advise the Alpha, but they'll also call the Alpha on mistakes if they see them. They negotiate for the Pack and intercede and interpret both ways when needed. They are adviser, ambassador, information gatherer, whatever is needed to help the Pack live in balance with the world around them." 

Stiles flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He was silent long enough that Derek began to worry that he'd once again got an explanation wrong. But then Stiles stirred and just said in an awed tone, "Wow. And you think that's what I could do?"

"That's what you're already doing," Derek replied. 

"I... Really?" 

"You called yourself the Scott whisperer," Derek pointed out. That conversation when Stiles had convinced Derek that joining the Pack wouldn't just be another thing that was yanked away from him, that had been when he'd realized what role Stiles had assumed. He hadn't realized though until just a few minutes ago that Stiles hadn't done so consciously, that he had just fallen into it.

And apparently, he still was having trouble believing it. "Yeah, I did, but that's... That's just Scott. That wasn't me being..." Stiles trailed off and Derek could practically see him reviewing what had happened and comparing it to what Derek had just told him. "Huh." He turned his head in Derek's direction. "I'm the Emissary?"

Derek nodded, even though he was pretty sure Stiles wouldn't be able to see it. "You're the Emissary," he confirmed.

Derek watched a smile slowly spread across Stiles' face. "Cool."

The conversation seemed to have distracted Stiles from his anxiety because he settled after that and it wasn't long after that his breathing slowed and deepened into sleep.

Derek kept watch.

He was pretty sure he'd never admit it, but he found standing watch... well _relaxing_ wasn't quite the right word, but it was in the ball park. Calming? Soothing? He wasn't sure really what to call the state being on watch put him into, but he liked it.

There was just something about it -- the need to have his senses wide open and alert at the same time he had to keep his thoughts focused but quiet -- it put him in a state that felt very much how he heard meditation was supposed to feel like. He wasn't worrying, or dwelling on what had gone wrong or what could go wrong in the future. The pain and guilt he wrestled with for far too much of the time got pushed aside and he could just be. 

Stiles was Pack. Watching over him like this settled something inside Derek. This was something he could do. This was a place where he _fit_. He was protecting his Pack, both from outside threats and the more insidious, harder to fight threats from within. All he had to do was.

Breathe.

Watch.

_Guard._

**Author's Note:**

> Really the amount of time I spent agonizing over what relationships and tags to put on this is ridiculous. 
> 
> Essentially, this story is gen, but as the series is definitely going to a slash place I keep wanting to tag this as Derek/Stiles too. Even though it really isn't there yet.


End file.
